Strings To A Name
by The Serial Dabbler
Summary: No one ever said death was easy; damn breathers don't appreciate what they've got...but when the living world meshes with what lies beyond, their worldly senses stand to change. For the better?...Well it's all relative after that. *A dabble challenge.


A/N: _'Ah. Well…I attended Juilliard…I'm a graduate of the Harvard business school. I travel quite extensively. I lived through the Black Plague and had a pretty good time during that. I've seen the EXORCIST__ ABOUT A HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN TIMES, AND IT KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER EVERY SINGLE TIME I SEE IT... NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT YOU'RE TALKING TO A DEAD GUY... NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK? You think I'm qualified?' – Betelgeuse _

Note: I stumbled across 'Life Is But A Joke' (by Perdyta) and was hooked. Needless to say I got the Rules and Idea for this challenge from her ficlet. So if you develop a taste for these little dabbles it's definitely worth looking her up.

_**The Rules:**__  
>1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.<br>2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.  
>3. Write a drabbleficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!  
>4. Do ten of these, then post them.<em>

I find this whole idea rather intriguing so I dosed myself up on caffeine to find the courage to try it out. Primarily inspired by the movie, but with snippets of the cartoon thrown in…drabbles aren't really in any relative order.

Rated T: For _obvious _reasons; contains some _mild _swearing.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that bores any resemblance whatsoever to Betelgeuse, in any way, shape or form. Credit must go, unquestionably, to Tim Burton. And whilst we're on the subject best mention I hold no claims whatsoever over any of the music either.

**1. Yours To Hold – Skillet (3:43)**

Things weren't meant to be easy…not in life and certainly not in death, despite what those idiot breathers liked to think.

Easy was boring and although he'd been called worse over the years, he was _never _boring.

He got that...Lyds got that and he supposed that was all that mattered.

She hadn't always though, and he shuddered at the unpleasant shiver that made its way across his spine. She'd wanted _in_ at one point and she hadn't cared about the repercussions that stupid decision would hold. She'd been dark, morbid and alone, and looked at death as an easy loophole.

It wasn't.

She knew that better than most now, he'd seen to that, shown her the darkest parts of the Neitherworld in a bid to shake some sense into her. She'd got it after that and attempted to untangle the proverbial webs that had been spun around her.

He'd begrudgingly accepted that she wasn't like the other breathers; they were impressionable, weak-minded and ignorant. She wasn't any of those things, not anymore, if she ever had been.

She was his, his bright-eyed babes.

She was _his._

And as much as he hated to admit it…he couldn't find the strength to deny it worked the other way round.

**2. Gotta Be Somebody – Nickelback (4:06)**

She wasn't like her parents, wasn't like the other girls at school and she certainly wasn't what most people would call _normal._

Not that she minded…she didn't particularly want to be normal.

Delia might have been her step-mother, so it wasn't all that surprising love seemed lost between them…but Lydia had found out rather quickly that she had more in common with the Maitlands than she did her own _father_.

…Found out rather quickly that she connected better with the dead than she ever had done the living.

Somewhere in the vague recesses of her mind she noted that should probably frighten her.

She wasn't even entirely sure why it didn't.

Living people tried her patience, most shallow and vain, consumed with their troubles to such an extent that they couldn't seem to accept the world around them. She wasn't like that, and for that reason alone she had always felt isolated from the living world.

But that was then.

That was before she'd stumbled across the shrunken poltergeist in Adam's miniature model.

She'd always wanted to be _somebody_,to feel like there were people out there she could rely on that wouldn't try to change her for it. She wouldn't have believed it back then but Betelgeuse, self-assured, self-proclaimed and somewhat terrifying Betelgeuse, would have been the one to save her. He hadn't helped her be somebody; he'd gone one better…

…He'd made her proud to be _her_.

Though, she supposed, she shouldn't have thought anything less of the _Ghost with the Most._

**3. Big Girls Don't Cry – Fergie (4:28)**

Memories were a funny thing, some vague and barely recognisable whilst others assaulted the mind with a vividness that could terrify a person.

Lydia remembered most things, whether it was a sentence she'd read in a particularly interesting book or a photograph she'd seen in the newspaper. She remembered her mother walking out, she remembered the night her father had brought Delia home…and she remembered meeting the Maitlands as if it had happened yesterday…and not almost a _year_ down the line.

That wasn't all she remembered and as desperately as she'd tried to forget; she couldn't escape the disconcerting images of a monochrome pinstriped suit, a ghoulish snake and blood red wedding dress that haunted her dreams.

Even a sandworm hadn't been enough to rid him from the world.

Some days were easier than others, some days she _almost _managed to convince herself the wounds weren't as fresh as they once were…it never lasted long.

A part of her feared she didn't want to forget. Feared that, for some insane reason, she was holding onto _him_.

She didn't understand it, wasn't entirely sure she wanted to.

But the notion of him no longer existing struck her as absurd, and some distant part of her mind whispered that a sandworm couldn't possibly be enough to stop him.

It was only a matter of time, of that she was certain.

So what point was there in crying?

**4. Ultraviolet – Stiff Dylans (3:39)**

Auras were child's play, something you picked up fairly easily in the first few years after death. They were unique, distinctive and once you learned to recognise them relatively simple to track. So simple in fact that even the odd breather managed to pick them up.

All living things generate an aura, no shit! What most didn't know was that also rang true for the dead, even if the context was slightly altered the end result was the same…an almost luminous radiation, thick enough to see and deceptively substantial enough to touch.

An aura dulled upon a person's death bed but followed their soul onwards, whether they were destined for the Neitherworld or not. They never burned as brightly after that.

Then there was Lyds.

Brimming with life but so out of place amongst the other breathers, pale skin and dark eyes suited far better to the shadows.

Dead!

He grinned, jagged teeth set grimly.

Her Aura betrayed her, too bright to belong to a ghoul and far too colourful for the Neitherworld. Lavender, royal blue, pale yellow, light red and the faintest traces of green…

…Not like the darkness encroaching on his.

His was black, hers…_almost _made him forget that.

**5. Contagious Chemistry – You Me At Six (3:50)**

Three years! Three _fucking _years! The old broad had deliberately kept him there, _waiting,_ while she served all the other pathetic deadbeats.

By all rights he should be pissed.

But every cloud…his lips curled back in semblance of a grin, not wholly unpleasant despite the malicious shadow.

Juno was quick and she'd kept him there because she knew as well as he did that there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop him _this _time. Hell dear ol' Babs may have fed him to a sandworm but he'd managed to complete enough of the ceremony to bind himself to the girl.

And he'd waited long enough to test the waters.

His hands shimmered across the surface of her mirror, room beyond as dark as he remembered. A savage hiss ripped from his throat and he passed through effortlessly, materialising in the darkness, looming over the tangled covers of the bed.

The girl…Lyds he remembered, the kid who couldn't be trusted…the kid who actively tried to pull out of their deal. Asleep, almost peaceful…long inky curls seeping from the quilt in dark waves across the mattress, skin almost white in the moonlight.

She'd grown, and for a moment he felt his resentment slip from him, she'd done a damn good job of growing up. After three years, cooped up in Juno's waiting room, he could _fucking _appreciate that. Her features were largely the same, but more defined, her outline more delicate through the quilts.

She'd grown up…that's what breathers did.

Her hand swept across the covers and his ring glinted back at him through the blankness, held steadfast on her ring finger.

A feral grin curved his lips…

…He was _out_.

**6. Mad – Ne-Yo (4:15)**

They fought; something chronic at times, at each other's throat with an intensity that bristled the air around them.

It had become somewhat of a habit; she'd haul up in her room, huddled up in her desk chair and watch him.

He'd stand in some corner or other and wait for her to lash out, offer up the occasional snide remark to help her get there that little bit quicker.

She'd shout and throw her toys from her pram with the best of them, goading him for a reaction and eventually his finely tuned patience would snap and he'd drown out her shouts with his own. Neither of them listened, neither of them had any desire too, and the worst part was it always became difficult to remember the _particulars_ of why they were fighting.

Things weren't always going to be roses, sunshine and daisies; somehow he didn't think she'd interest him as much if they were. But for reasons he couldn't fathom he didn't really like the idea of there being bad blood between them. She, in turn, was never angry for long, her emotion would run it's course and she'd burn herself out.

Arguments didn't lie between them, he didn't leave her angry and she didn't attempt to send him away. For all their faults they made a noticeable effort to set things right before anything worse could come of it.

Sometimes it rained, sometimes it _stormed._

But staying _mad _wasn't really an option.

**7. How To Save A Life – The Fray (4:24)**

Life was an oddly delicate thing, so quickly brought to a close, on what appeared to be the whims of the fate. Lydia understood that better now, appreciated her own with far more meaning than she had before.

The Maitlands had suggested it to her first, insisted that death wasn't nature's way of making things better. And then there was Betelgeuse, and after six hundreds years of it she supposed he was the one she ought to listen too.

Getting in was _easy_…

…Getting back out was the problem.

She probably shouldn't have backed out of her end of their bargain. A deal was a _deal, _and despite his somewhat underhanded offer, he'd held up his end. She'd never really felt right since that night.

She wasn't the sort to go back on her word, that wasn't who she wanted to be.

But if she wanted her word to mean _anything_, she needed to make amends.

There was more to the poltergeist than she'd had chance to witness, something lurking underneath the chilling grin and sunken eyes that played on her conscience. She didn't know whether it meant anything good but surely even he deserved one _last_ choice?

As it stood she was the one who could offer it.

**8. Crazy – Gnarls Barkley (3:04)**

It amused him at first how they thought _his_ terms could be negotiated.

Maitland saps…if they'd spent more time with their noses in the handbook and less time romanticising their lives, they _might _have been fun. He snorted; _fucking_ prudes would never be fun.

_Hell_ he'd been around a good few centuries now; he'd dealt with deadbeats who couldn't let go before…maybe a quick visit to Saturn would shake 'em up? Make 'em more co-operative.

Not that it really mattered.

Yuppies couldn't set foot outside the house for a hundred and twenty years anyway.

He'd been around long enough to know how the afterlife worked, and they wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. 'Sides it wasn't about the housebound newlyweds anymore…

…He'd found an _out_.

Little breather wouldn't know what hit her.

Good thing Chucky-Boy hadn't snuffed it, breathers were touchy about that sort of thing, and a dead father wouldn't have scored him any points.

Let the Maitlands think they pulled the strings, if it kept him out long enough to get to the girl…that was fine.

He grinned.

Call him crazy, but the girl…she got it.

**9. Time Warp – The Rocky Horror Picture Show (3:30)**

'_It's astounding, time is fleeting…madness takes its toll._

_So listen closely, not for very much longer. _

_I've got to keep control.' _

Time! What did he have other than time?

He shook his head briskly; blood red fingertips wrapped decisively round a chipped shot glass.

Time didn't mean much to a dead man, but that didn't mean he was happy to sit quietly and wait for _something _to happen.

That wasn't his style.

The afterlife worked a little differently to the phase that came before...sure there were rules, but once you'd gathered enough power the rules didn't really count for _shit_.

And he'd got a lot of juice over the years.

Still wasn't enough to get him out that blasted mirror though and Lyds didn't seem like she'd be calling him anytime soon.

She'd get over it; he intrigued her too much for her to keep him away. One fateful meeting from a town model and they'd crossed a line, he was a snake… bad too the bone…_mostly_, and despite the fascination in her eyes he could tell he'd shaken her.

He frightened her, not to the extent he did the Maitlands or her folks, but she was smart enough to be wary.

His fingers twitched as he downed the glass in one breath, grimacing in distaste.

Time meant _nothing_…so for now…

…He'd wait.

**10. Bring Me To Life – Evanescence (3:57)**

Lydia couldn't understand why she was even considering it…maybe she'd finally fallen off the deep end? Lord knows Delia had warned her about it enough.

But when had she ever listened to Delia?

She cast a glance discreetly over the ornate mirror, hanging innocently on the far wall. It was still, utterly unmoved in the moonlight…but she knew he was there, bidding his time…_waiting_ for her to make her next move in this strange little game they were playing.

Only it was starting to feel less and less like a game, and if her parents didn't start taking the haunting seriously they were going to get hurt.

Betelgeuse wasn't like the Maitlands, he didn't have reservations or lingering traces of human compassion…and although he frightened her she knew it wasn't anywhere near the level of fear she should be feeling.

Six hundred years was a long time dead, she supposed it shouldn't surprise her that it changed a person.

There was no telling what would happened to Adam and Barbara, should they remain as long, though she blindly hoped they'd stubbornly hold onto the traits that made them both so wonderful.

The underlining factor was that Betelgeuse was _dangerous, unpredictable_, all those things that should set a person on edge. He existed between two worlds, and she barely knew anything about either. He thrived on injustice, striking deals with desperate spirits and not caring how he finished them…by all rights she should leave him to it, rapt behind the glass of her mirror.

"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse."

So why did she call his name?

A/N: The caffeine was definitely a good call on my part...Review?


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